


Leeds

by The Last Good Name (thelastgoodname)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Magic, Used to be dead, excerpt, post-show (both shows)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 03:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastgoodname/pseuds/The%20Last%20Good%20Name
Summary: Waking up after one is fairly sure one has already died is a very disconcerting experience. Running into a homeless former protege whom one never quite treated very well turns out to be worse.





	Leeds

Wesley blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the sensations rushing through him.He was cold.He was hungry.He was tired.And he could feel his heart beating.

 

For someone who had been dead for some time, it was all very disconcerting. 

 

He peered around in the gloomy winter dusk, and realized that it was beginning to snow.He was obviously not back in New York, he mused, and reflexively tensed his muscles and hunched his shoulders, trying to conserve heat.The alley he was in sheltered him somewhat from the wind, but he could hear it whistling past nearby buildings.There was no artificial light in the alley, and the daylight was rapidly fading.The hunger and fatigue would have to wait, as his personal safety was paramount.If he were actually alive again, that is.The heartbeats seemed to indicate life, but he remembered dying, and at the edge of his memory, he remembered being dead.That feeling was fading more rapidly than the light.

 

He was about to arbitrarily choose a direction to walk in when he heard someone coming down the alley.The person kicked a can viciously, and as it skidded by Wesley, he tried to force his brain to conceive of a hiding place.The cold, exhaustion, and hunger stymied his attempts, and just as he was about to move towards the least insecure location, a dumpster, he recognized the person approaching.

 

She was bloody, covered in dust and grime.She looked even more exhausted than he felt, which was something of an accomplishment, Wesley considered.Her dark wavy hair looked tangled and unwashed, and he could smell her clothes from where he stood several feet away.She looked like she had been on several consecutive patrols, without a respite for rest or food.

 

She did not look at him, but instead focused on the ground in front of her as if it took all her concentration not to fall.When she stumbled, Wesley realized that perhaps her focus was fading.

 

"Faith, " he said.She didn't respond.He tried again, louder.He had to repeat himself a few times to get her attention, both because his voice showed the effects of long-term disuse, but also because she didn't seem to be listening as she continued down the alley past him.

 

By the time she looked up, she had gone past where he was standing, and he was almost shoutingat her.

 

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

 

Wesley understood the sentiment.He imagined that she had all the same questions running through her mind as he did.He did not expect her to back away from him in fear. 

 

Wesley approached Faith, but she continued to stumble backwards until she tripped over the uneven mixed surface of the alley, and fell backwards.He winced as she fell, because Faith did not attempt to block her fall, and instead raised her arms to protect her face.She thought he would strike her, Wesley realized.He paused in his approach, and eventually in the quiet dark realized that she was speaking.

 

"No, please.I'm sorry.I didn't mean to.Please don't hurt me.Please...."

 

She sounded very young, and very afraid.Wesley suppressed a surge of annoyance.He was the one who had just returned from the dead, surely he should be the center of this little scene.

 

"Faith."He repeated her name again, but she did not snap out of whatever fugue state she seemed to be sinking into.He sighed, and examined what he could see of the alley, ascertaining that there were no nasty surprises within his sight.He looked Faith again, and this time noticed that her clothes were not merely dirty and torn but were also worn thin and faded.He frowned, and drew on the competent aura he had created in New York, one that had served him well when working with Angel.

 

"I'm going to approach you, and help you get up.Then we're going to go to your house, and get some food, and rest.And then I'm going to figure out what is going on. Is that acceptable?"He grimaced as the words that left his mouth sounded more like the man he had been when he last saw Faith, after his horrible mistake in releasing Angelus, rather than the man he knew he could be, the man Fred had loved before she had died.

 

Rather than reassure her, his words seemed to scare her more.Wesley was not particularly surprised, as her last memories of him were somewhat distasteful.However, her low mutterings caused him to reassess his assumptions.

 

"Please, no, I didn't mean to.Please, I'm sorry.Please."Her voice faded, and she stopped speaking.She remained hunched over, protecting her face and chest, but showed no signs of actually recognizing him or responding to his actions. 

 

"Faith," he snapped at her, hoping to gain some sort of reaction.

 

She continued to rock and whimper.

 

He contemplated this turn of events.Becoming not dead so abruptly, encountering Faith almost immediately, finding her in such a state: this was no coincidence. Coincidences did not happen in his world, and they most certainly did not happen to the Agent.Or rather, to a Agent.Wesley sighed.Even after all this time, he still forgot that she was never the one girl in all the world; she was first one of two, then one of many.Coming to a decision, he purposely reached for her, ignoring how she shied away from his touch.He pulled her to her feet, and disregarded for the moment the shaking that seemed about to knock her down again.He began walking towards the entrance of the alley, and resolutely did not contemplate both how compliantly she followed and how a tear in her shirt allowed him to see her ribs sticking out from her side.

 

By the time they reached anything beginning to resemble civilization, Wesley had come to three realizations.First, Faith was clearly cracked.She had no sense of herself; she seemed to not recognize him or her surroundings.She looked like she had been living rough for some time.She needed help, and since he had shown up right as she collapsed, he was tasked with helping her. 

 

Second, he was definitely alive.The ache in his muscles from continually holding Faith up, pulling her along and making sure she didn't fall over again proved that.He was out of shape, but his heart was beating, and he could feel the wind on his face.How and why would have to wait, but for now, he was alive and had been assigned a mission by someone who had power over life and death.

 

Third, they were in Leeds.

 

It had been some time since he had been to Leeds, decades in fact.He had only been once, on a day outing with a friend from school, whose father was a northerner. They had gone to Leeds to watch Leeds United play Huddersfield at Elland Road.Wesley did not recall who had won the game, but he did vividly remember the feeling of high tension and imminent violence at the pitch, and the dead sheep and the two owls on the Leeds Organization seal.The owls looked fiercer than owls had any right to look.This was certainly Leeds, although it seemed cleaner and more economically viable than when he last knew it. 

 

He briefly wondered how Faith had come to Yorkshire, but realized that, along with his own mysteries, would have to wait until he found them shelter and some food.He hadn't a watch and so didn't know how long they had been wandering, which was yet another mystery. Although he seemed to be wearing the clothes he had died in, they were clean of blood, and he distinctly recalled that he had been wearing a watch when he died. 

 

He kept his eyes open for a shelter for rough sleepers, or a church offering sanctuary.It was full evening now, and the wind and snow had increased to a painful degree.Just as he was about to drag Faith to a pile of cardboard and crouch down for the night, he noticed the classic and workmanlike lines of a typical northern Anglican church.It even had a clock on the tower, now showing that it was nearing seven in the evening.Wesley idly noted that as it was winter, they were in the north of England, and it was just ten now, he and Faith had probably been wandering for two or more hours.He sighed, and approached the building.The front of the church was dominated by a massive set of stairs and a portico, and the front square had at some point been converted to a car park.As there were still cars here, he surmised that there must still be people inside.The front doors were solid wood, and locked.He dragged Faith back down the stairs, and circled building, imagining that there must be a crypt opening somewhere, or an administrative building, to account for the remaining cars.When he finally found the door, after hauling Faith three-quarters of the way around the church, he was ready to collapse. 

 

The door opened to his knock, and once they entered, Wesley discovered that his fingers were so cold they wouldn't release Faith; he was surprised for a moment, and then realized that he couldn't really feel his fingers.Faith remained unmoving, muttering quietly and not looking at him.The people who approached them, an elderly woman and a young rough-looking man, were kind and gentle and Wesley couldn't recall anything they said, although he answered their questions and gave every appearance of being someone who had been alive for longer than a few hours.Once they had established that Faith and Wesley had nowhere else to go, and were not currently worse for drugs or alcohol, the young man led Wesley to a tiny room with four cots, and the woman led Faith in the opposite direction. 

 

Just as Wesley was about to climb into the last available cot, he heard sounds of a struggle, and a scream that sounded like Faith.Wesley had never heard Faith scream, so he wasn't exactly sure who was fighting, but he leapt up and ran out to find her regardless.When he found Faith, in a room identical to his own but with two empty cots, she was struggling away from the elderly woman and making sounds of distress.Wesley watched, mouth agape, as the woman tried to touch Faith, and she screamed.The hallway was crowded, and the other two woman in the room were sitting up in bed, staring at Faith in confusion and fear.He approached her, pushing past the elderly woman, and wrapped his arms around Faith.

 

She continued to struggle, but did not scream again.Instead, she began chanting again, repeating the same mantra she had said during their entire tour of Leeds.This time it was louder than before, and Wesley noticed as other people began to understand her words. 

 

"You're dead, I didn't mean to.You're dead, I didn't mean to.You're dead, I didn't mean to," she whispered.

 

The other residents of the room, and the people congregated in the hallway heard Faith, and spoke amongst themselves.Faith curled up into a ball again, with her arms protecting her face and body, and Wesley held her as best he could.He looked towards the two resident volunteers, helpless.She appeared to be on some very bad drugs, but the real explanation was even more disastrous.

 

Eventually, Faith began to calm down, and after some quiet conferring, the woman gestured for Wesley to follow her, and to bring Faith.They sat in the main room for a bit, and the woman made tea.Wesley took the hot cup, but did not drink it.Faith gave no notice of her tea. 

 

When the young man came back, he brought Wesley and Faith to a room even smaller than the first two sleeping rooms.It appeared to be a janitor's closet, and the man had moved two of the cots into here; they filled the entire space.He indicated that Wesley and Faith should stay here for the night, and Wesley climbed in, hauling Faith with him. 

 

As Wesley arranged them on the cots, and spread the blankets around them, he wondered if it was possible that life was always a significantly worse option than death.

 

* * *

 

When Wesley woke the next morning, Faith was pressed up against his chest; his arms were wrapped around her.As he adjusted to the sensation of waking up in a dark room in bed with a woman he had been certain he would never see again, his mind swam with the details of his predicament.He attempted to plan, listening to Faith's choked breaths and barely heard whimpers.Under these circumstances, with extremely limited resources and a few too many problems, Wesley could see no obvious solutions.First, however, he needed to find them a safe place to stay and some books to figure out how he had come back.

 

Wesley peeled himself away from Faith and got up; opening the door took a few tries, as he couldn't see the handle in the dark.He stumbled when he spilled into the hallway, swearing softly.The lights were dimmed, and he realized that rather than sleeping through the night, it was still very early.The same woman who had helped them the night before approached from the room at the end of the hallway. 

 

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

 

"Ah," he replied."Is there a chance for some tea?"

 

She bustled around the lounge, making them both some tea and toast.The clock above a desk in the corner read just past five in the morning.Wesley accepted the cup and plate, and proceeded to eat his rudimentary breakfast.The woman chatted to him about the weather, which was unseasonably cold, and the church, which was putting on a special program for Easter week. A wall-calendar indicated that it was March, nearly a year since he had died.He wondered what had happened to Angel, and Illyria, and the rest of the people in New YorkNew YorkHe was vaguely disturbed that his only thoughts the night before had been for himself and Fred.Despite everything he experienced in New York with Angel, everything he had done in New York for Angel, he couldn't find it in himself to expend energy at the moment to figure out what had happened to the people he had left behind.At the moment all his energy was focused on discovering what had happened to him.

 

Once his toast and tea were gone, he inquired as to the closest library. 

 

"Oh, Central Library is only just down the street."She gave him directions, instructed him that the library wouldn't open until nine, and let him leave.

 

As he was about to open the door, she spoke."What shall I tell your friend, when she wakes up?"

 

He looked at her."I'm sure I'll be back before she awakens.As you've pointed out, the library won't be an option for some time."

 

Wesley wandered Leeds for some time, searching.When he found what he was looking for, he smashed the window of the Renault, and carefully extracted the laptop case.He returned the case itself, along with the papers and a few extra discs, and continued down the road.He knew that at the moment, his scruffy appearance and wrinkled clothes would cast doubt on his financial capability to own a top-of-the-line laptop, so his next stop was a corner filled with the first rush going to work.He was pleased that none of the people waiting gave him much notice. He asked for a fag from a young man wearing a tracksuit and carrying a rucksack, and when the youth had trouble lighting it in the early spring wind, Wesley suggested moving into a nearby entrance, just around the corner from the bulk of people waiting. 

 

Once they were safely away from the spectators, Wesley carefully laid down the laptop, and cupped his cigarette with both hands.When the other man stepped close to light it, Wesley dropped the cigarette, grabbed the boy by the neck and turned him around.Wesley wrapped one hand over the boy's mouth and squeezed the boy's neck for a few minutes.When the boy stopped struggling, Wesley let go, and as the boy stood gasping, Wesley hit him in the stomach several times.Once the boy had fallen to the ground, moaning, Wesley took his rucksack, giving the boy back his fags and a notebook but keeping the jumper and wallet.Wesley also took his mobile.

 

Stowing the laptop in the bag, he left the entrance quietly, walking away from the waiting bus.As dawn rose over the city, Wesley continued his walk.By the time he returned to St. George's just after seven, he had taken 10 phones, three personal data assistants, and the laptop.His next stop was to locate a buyer for his products, but first he wanted to check on Faith.

 

He stood in the doorway of the crypt for a few moments, watching the elderly woman and young man from the night before genially talking and handing Faith food.She still ate with the same single-minded determination that Wesley recalled from his brief time in Detroit.He entered the room, and the woman called out a greeting.Faith turned to see who it was, and scrambled back, out of her chair into the center of the room.

 

Wesley noted her stance, with perfect balance and loosely fisted hands.The two assistants for the shelter stared at them, but Wesley was unwilling to move and set Faith off.

 

Finally, she spoke."You're dead.Angel called, and told me, just before," she trailed off and Wesley's gut clenched with the answer to his earlier question.Angel's grand plan to rehabilitate Wolfram and Hart had failed in the end.Wesley had known it would, but he had always been more comfortable following a charismatic leader than leading himself.

 

He stared at Faith, not knowing how to respond.The volunteers were watching them both as if they were crazy, unsure whether to call for the police for goal or to section them. 

 

Wesley tried to find a calm tone."Please, Faith, let's not have this conversation here."

 

"Wesley," she said, "you're dead."She sounded reasonable, as if he had forgotten this fact. 

 

At least she wasn't exhibiting the same paranoia and confusion of the night before.Before he could think to respond to this entirely correct admonition, the woman approached him. 

 

"Is there something we can do?" she asked.

 

The volunteers were leaning toward the sectioning option, Wesley realized.After the previous night, and now this morning, assuming Faith was delusional would have been a justifiable notion.However, it wouldn't do either of them any good right now.

 

"No, thank you.I think we'd better go find some breakfast."He raised an eyebrow inquiringly at Faith, and she approached him without dropping her tension."Thank you for your help," Wesley told the volunteers, and with a final smile, he and Faith left the church.

 

Once they were out into the dismal grey of the still early morning, he headed toward a cafe he recalled from the night before.He had reached the gates before he noticed Faith was not following him. 

 

When he turned to her, he discovered tears cascading down her face.

 

"Faith," he began, but she interrupted him. 

 

“Wes, you were dead."So far, this had been the only thing she had said that morning, but unlike the first two times, Faith now used the past tense.She had accepted that he was back, at least for the moment.He went to her side, and stood there awkwardly.She didn't say anything else, but after several minutes she stopped crying, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

 

He straightened. "Shall we go for some food, and discuss this further?"

 

Faith shrugged, and they proceeded to the nearest cafe.Once there, he pulled out the wallet he had taken from the young man at the bus stop, and checked how much cash he had available.£15 wasn't much, but it would provide for a hearty breakfast.

 

He and Faith ordered, and Faith carefully did not meet his eyes.Wesley examined her.She looked depressed, lifeless.She was filthy from the evening before, and her hair hung limp and stringy around her perpetually hunched shoulders.She did not look like the strong self-confident Agent he remembered.

 

The ate in silence, and Wesley used the time to consider his next moves.He would have to ask her about the Organization, and whether they would be of any assistance.If the answer was either negative or inconclusive, he would have to begin sourcing literature that might be useful in his quest for information.If the answer was positive, then his second task after establishing his own circumstances, would be to discover why, if the Organization was amenable to assistance, Faith looked in such a state.

 

When the waiter put down their food, Faith attacked it as if starving.From what he had seen the night before, it seemed a viable option.Wesley took his time with his meal, letting his stomach adjust.The toast had gone down fine, and the tea, but eggs and bacon and beans and tomato might be a different story. 

 

When Faith had finished eating, Wesley ventured a comment."I'm not sure what happened."

 

She looked at him.

 

"I was dead, I think," he said.He frowned, then repeated more convincingly, "No. I was dead."

 

She nodded."So, if you were dead, what are you now?"She sounded curious and slightly cautious, but not concerned.

 

"Alive, of a sort, I imagine," he said with a grimace.His fist ached from punching the young man, and his shoes were not made for the walking they had done the night before.He hadn't slept enough, and his breakfast was not going down well.

 

She stared at him."Do you feel alive?"

 

"I'm not certain how I felt when I was dead, so I have no basis for comparison," he replied. 

 

Faith nodded slowly.She fiddled with her fork, spinning it in her hands and watching the tines glint."You have to breathe, right?" she asked without looking at him."And your heart's beating?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Sounds alive like me."She put down the fork and looked at him again."So you were dead, and now you're alive.How?"

 

Wesley shrugged."I've no idea.That is my second priority, currently."

 

Faith nodded and then looked at him, confused."What's the first priority?"

 

"Locate some housing for us, perhaps some income."

 

"Oh," said Faith."I have a place.And money; I've got a job."

 

Wesley blinked.This was an unexpected turn of events.He frowned at her."Your appearance lead me to believe otherwise."

 

Faith shrugged."Doesn't matter.What's the next thing?"

 

"I would like to know why, exactly, where I once was dead I now am not," Wesley said primly.He frowned and contemplated Faith.Perhaps telling her that his third priority, after discovering what had happened to him, was ascertaining what had happened to her, might not be the best option.

 

Faith nodded again."You said that.What's the thing after that one?"

 

Wesley pursed his lips."Once we have reached a satisfactory understanding of— if this is is permanent, if I am truly alive again, then I'll need to recover my identity, or forge a new one, and begin to live again."

 

"Must be nice," Faith said, staring out the window."To be able to just start over.To have a choice."

 

Wesley sighed."I'm not sure this life is a choice.More of a calling, I think."

 

Faith shrugged.She nodded at Wesley's half-eaten breakfast, and asked, "You done?"When he nodded his ascent, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a note.Tossing it on the table, she rose and made her way to the door.Wesley watched her for a moment before following.

 

Plans would have to be reassessed, if Faith had money to spare and a place to stay.Her relationship with the Organization still troubled Wesley, and her actions from the previous night were nothing short of disturbed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of an excerpt than anything else, an unfinished character study that's been sitting around in my drafts folder for years.


End file.
